Chapter 5 – Aunt Marge

By the time Marge arrived the next day, her and Vernon had already been to the school to explain away Lizzie's predisposition to trouble. They assured him it was no reflection on the family considering she was not his daughter. They were referred to a catholic correctional school for troubled girls instead, and secured her enrollment for the fall term.

Through the thin panel wall of the cupboard, Lizzie heard Marge's bulldog first, whichever one she decided to bring this time, trudge in with its evil grunting noise that made her shiver. Hopefully this wasn't the one that chased her up a tree or was quick to bite at ankles if you moved in its vicinity wrong.

She heard Vernon pour Marge out a brandy for lunch and they sat down in the living room, knowing Lizzie could hear their entire conversation.

"She's a hopeless case, Vernon. They can straighten her out, then over the summers you can look for suitors. It doesn't really matter who, does it? She doesn't deserve a special accommodation or anything at this point," Marge said contemptuously.

"In the meantime, we need to set her straight here, don't we?" Marge asked gesturing to the closet. Vernon opened the door a moment later and Lizzie was blinded by the light that flooded in. He bucked his head for her to get up and she struggled to her feet.

"So... getting yourself expelled was your brilliant plan then? I pulled strings to get you in. I do hope for your sake you're starting to regret your choices," Marge berated while Lizzie pulled on a simple cotton dress that hung on the back of the cupboard door.

"Vernon, hold her arms back, face me," Marge instructed. With a swift motion her arms were locked in Vernon's grip and Marge slapped her face when Lizzie made a struggle. Then she pulled out a small device. "I use this to train my dogs, when they don't listen to me, they get zapped, bark too much, zapped, don't heel when I tell them to, zapped, get where we're going?" Marge asked Lizzie, and her eyes widened in fear.

"You are an absolute embarrassment," she said, zapping her hard in the stomach. Lizzie screamed and writhed.

"Shut up," Marge spat, and zapped her several times in quick precession. Lizzie doubled over and shrieked, her legs buckled under her and she collapsed in Vernon's grip.

Marge stayed for nine days. Lizzie ate and drank nothing but a glass of water and a granola bar every day until she left. The majority of the time she was on her knees cleaning the kitchen floors and being at the woman's beck and call while Vernon was at work.

For as long as Lizzie could remember she struggled to sleep. Vernon refused to give Lizzie the sedatives she relied on when she was in trouble. He had them prescribed for night terrors when she was about six-years-old, and quickly ensured she grew dependent on them. It gave him leverage for good behavior, and the opportunity for the family to render her unconscious for long stretches. Only then they could happily pretend she completely didn't exist.

Aside from brief spells of unconsciousness from the pain of her punishment thus far, Lizzie hadn't managed to sleep in days. Her head felt crushed by an anvil, it hurt to keep her eyes open, and her mind wouldn't shut down to sleep when she had the opportunity.

Marge sat her down with a pen and paper and had her repeatedly write out the rules and verses. They were strict and uncompromising as always, but more extreme than usual, designed to make her life as miserable as possible. Marge warned correctional school would be no different and that they have no tolerance.

Vernon generally let Marge do the legwork on disciplining Lizzie because the woman had a way of effectively breaking her spirit and spite, and gave him the opportunity to somehow look like the better alternative.

Lizzie wasn't allowed to interact much with her cousin, Dudley. He generally avoided her. His dad frightened him when she was around because he was the polar opposite to his son. Lizzie had never seen him hit Dudley. Dudley was a brat who was spoiled senseless and got away with everything while Lizzie could barely get away with breathing or blinking.

Dudley went to an all-boys school which was also a sharp contrast to the school she up until recently attended for many years. Girls at Sacred Heart were subjected to extremely strict standards. Punishments could put ancient Rome to shame in some instances. Boys at Campbell Hall were groomed for university and success. Dudley wasn't particularly smart, but received enough praise from his teachers to make her aunt and uncle sickeningly proud.

Dudley had three friends, Piers, Gordon, and Malcom. They all came from similar family structures and were perplexed by Lizzie. They'd make up ridiculous stories about how her family died. Her favorite was Gordon's story about a mountain lion on a camping trip. She wasn't allowed to talk to them if her uncle or aunt were around, but she had come up with several snide things to say over the years when they weren't.

Bad, but ultimately inconsequential, things happened to the group of boys when she was around if they didn't ease up on their offensive remarks.

One time Gordon ended up on the roof and didn't know how he got there. There was also no way to get down and authorities needed to be called. Another time, Malcolm would stub his toe every few steps he took. It made him look like a complete idiot and he howled in pain at his bruised flanges.

Another time, Piers had an allergic reaction to soda pop. He didn't understand why because it was all he ever drank. His face and tongue swelled but returned to normal only when he drank a mouthful of milk that somehow smelled fine but tasted disgustingly sour.

Lizzie knew better than to wish anything on Dudley. Vernon always seemed to suspect her of oddities but never had proof. He'd usually find something else to overreact and punish her over in response.

Vernon always tried to insist she was either possessed or delusional. Would do or say anything to make her feel crazy. He had gone so far as to tell her she couldn't possibly need to use the loo if she had just gone, even though she hadn't. He had removed dishes she'd washed and put away and berated her for not finishing chores even though she swore she'd just done them. Arguing with him was out of the question and the more often he did it, the crazier she actually thought she was.

He had put her on medicine that she thought made her psychotic about a year back. Between night terrors and things she could not explain as it was, people started to morph into demon figures and she thought she heard snakes and whispers everywhere she went. She had seen some truly bizarre things regularly on Privet Drive over the years and considered that her uncle was right and that the abilities she would never admit to might actually be demonic possession.

It made her reputation at school worse, somehow made the family hate her more than they already did, and made it increasingly difficult for Lizzie to tell the difference between dreams and reality.